


An Appropriate Date

by Persuade_me



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-17 02:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persuade_me/pseuds/Persuade_me
Summary: When the invitation for her mother’s Halloween Masquerade Ball arrives, along with the note “Let me know if you need an appropriate date,” Arya Stark decides she is done with hiding.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 72
Kudos: 400





	An Appropriate Date

  


Arya stared down at the invitation in her hand. She’d known it was coming, of course. It was one of Lady Catelyn Stark’s annual  _ Events _ with a capital E. The Stark Charity Masquerade was one of the few social functions that her mother absolutely insisted on Arya being present for, the others being the Stark New Year’s Eve Gala and the annual Stark Summer Tea and Charity Auction. She usually managed to maneuver her way out of the various other luncheons, brunches, teas, and cocktail parties throughout the year, but the annual Halloween masquerade ball was an event unto itself, and unless she wanted to put up with her mother’s wrath for an entire year, then Arya would be there in four weeks time, dressed in a gown and on her best behavior.

She’d known it was coming, dreaded its appearance in her mailbox. The thick, heavy cardstock, the letterpressed words, the accompanying note tucked inside  _ Let me know if you need an appropriate date. _ They all had her on edge, ready to lash out at the next person who spoke to her. Her fingers fiddled against the edge of the invitation, itching to tear it to shreds or shove it down the disposal or set it on fire. 

_ An appropriate date. _

Like Edric. Her perfectly pleasant friend who she went out with once in high school because it seemed the thing to do. Or Aegon. The heir to the Targaryen fortune who couldn’t seem to take no for an answer. Or Elmar. The spineless son of one of the skeeziest men she’d ever known. Or even Podrick. The somewhat acceptable (but not entirely because do you know who his distant cousin is?) lawyer who worked with Sansa.

_ An appropriate date. _

Someone who was not the bastard son of Robert Baratheon. Someone who was not  _ just _ a mechanic. Someone who was not working his ass off at two jobs to pay his own way through engineering school because his deadbeat father couldn’t be bothered to stand up to his bitch of a wife. Someone who was not Arya’s completely inappropriate, far too old for you, young lady, best friend turned roommate turned secret boyfriend. Someone who was anyone but Gendry Waters.

_ An appropriate date. _

There were times when Arya wanted to smack her mother. The way her mouth thinned in disapproval when she brought Gendry with her for family dinners. The not so subtle comments about Gendry’s lack of “quality” education, meaning he didn’t attend the same snooty prep school as the men that were deemed desirable by her mother. 

Never mind that every single one of those men looked at her like she was meant for nothing more than to smile and nod, hanging on their every word. Those men were from the right social circle. Those men had acceptable jobs and fat bank balances. Those men were often assholes, and those men brought a smile to her mother’s face.

It was Gendry that curled Catelyn’s lip with distaste, Gendry that turned up her mother’s nose. Gendry that loved her, that knew more of her than anyone save maybe Jon. Gendry that made her heart race and her skin burn and her soul ache. But none of that mattered to Catelyn. She refused to see what was right under her nose.

Bran knew because of course he did. Sansa knew because she’d walked in on them one day. Jon knew because she had told him, too full of happiness to keep it to herself. The others suspected, but Gendry had been so worried about Catelyn’s reaction that she’d agreed to keep their relationship quiet, to continue the pretense that the second bedroom in their flat was actually his and not an office slash rarely used guest room. 

Their friends knew. Hot Pie, Lommy, Mycah, Anguy, and the others. But her mother’s world, the moneyed circle of power? To them, Lady Arya Stark’s rough around the edges roommate was something to look down on, to whisper behind raised hands about, to endure until she finally came to her senses and chose a proper suitor. Because while a lowborn bastard (even one sired by a man like Robert Baratheon) might be an acceptable dalliance for one’s rebellious phase, a highborn lady certainly had no future with one. That was just...indecorous. 

_ An appropriate date. _

Fuck. That. 

The heavy cardstock crumpled in her fist, the anger coursing through her veins. Arya was done. Done with the veiled comments. Done with the sneering looks. Done with hiding. Done.

***

Gendry found her sitting at their tiny kitchen table, a look of determination on her face. 

“Arya?” 

She looked up, eyes blazing, and held out the invitation to him. “You’re going with me.”

He reached out to take the proffered paper, eyes narrowed, and she saw his face go pale as he realized what it was. “Arya, no-”

“ _ Yes. _ ”

He stared at her, his face stricken. “Arya, we can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” She was suddenly furious. “I love you, you stupid ass, and I am tired of pretending we’re nothing more than friends.”

“Your mother. She’ll-”

Arya glared at him, practically vibrating with anger. “My mother can  _ deal with it. _ There’s nothing she can do that could change the way I feel about you.”

“But-”

“How long do you intend to hide what we are, Gendry?” she snapped, her voice laced with distress. “It’s been well over a year already. Are we going to pretend for another year? Five years? Ten years?” Suddenly, she was unsure of everything, whether he was in this for good. “Because this is it for me,” she whispered. “I’m yours, but if you’re not sure-”

He cut her off with a furious kiss, his hands gripping hard on her arms as he pulled her to her feet. 

“How can you say that?” he asked when they finally broke apart gasping for breath. “I’ve never been more sure of anything than I am of you.”

She searched his face, desperately needing him to understand, to know how much this meant. “Then be with me, Gendry,” she pleaded. “For real. No more hiding.”

He stared at her for a long moment, emotions warring across his face, then his jaw set and he turned on his heel and walked down the hall to their bedroom, leaving Arya standing alone in the kitchen in complete confusion. She heard a drawer open, the bottom one on his dresser, the one that sticks unless you pull it just right, and moments later, he was striding back towards her, his hand closed around something.

“No more hiding,” he said, his bright blue eyes anxious but resolute. Gendry knelt down in front of her and held out a ring, and she swore she felt her heart stop at the look on his face. “Arya Stark, since the day we met, you’ve been there for me in ways no one else has. You’re my family in every way that matters, except by legally binding contract.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I love you more than I ever knew was possible. So, Arya Stark, would you be my wife?”

She stared down at him, heart pounding, eyes boring into his. Then she dropped to her knees and kissed him gently before tugging him back to his feet as she stood. Pulling away from him, she slowly opened her eyes to find him eyeing her nervously. 

“Was that an answer?”

She rolled her eyes and held out her hand. “Yes, you stupid bull. Yes.”

Gendry’s face broke into the brightest smile she’d ever seen, and he whooped loudly before wrapping his arms around her and spinning her in a circle, and she couldn’t help but laugh, the happiness spilling out of her.

He set her down and took her hand, slipping the ring on her finger. Arya looked down at it curiously. It wasn’t a diamond. It wasn’t like any stone she’d ever seen before. It was clear with lines of black streaked throughout. The art deco style setting looked almost vintage, but the distinctiveness of the gem gave the ring a uniquely modern feel. 

“It’s beautiful, Gendry,” she said softly, gazing up at him. “What is it?”

He looked almost embarrassed for a moment, eyes darting away as he ran his hand through shaggy black hair. “It’s called tourmalinated quartz. I’m sorry it’s not-”

She cut him off immediately. “Don’t you fucking dare apologize. I love it.”

A small grin spread across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, hooking her fingers in his waistband and pulling him closer. “In fact, I love it so much I’m going to wear it the rest of the night.” She reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head. “I’m going to wear  _ only _ it for the rest of the night.” 

***

“Engaged sex is better than dating sex,” she declared confidently, collapsing breathless beside him on the bed. 

Gendry rolled onto his side and peered at her. “Better than that time I bent you over the counter in your mother’s kitchen with everyone in the next room?”

She smirked at him, the memory of that particular adventure in forced silence filling her with a wicked glee. “Okay, maybe not that time.”

“Or what about last Halloween, with the costumes?”

“All right, maybe not that one either,” she conceded, recalling how utterly delectable he had looked in nothing but a pair of leather bracers.

“And remember that time-”

“Okay, shut it,” she huffed at him. “I was just trying to say that I like having sex with my  _ fiance. _ Is that alright with you?”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just saying that I don’t think you’ve had a big enough sample size yet to properly compare, love.” He propped himself up on his elbow to look at her. “One time, one very good time, I might add, with a ring on your finger isn’t quite enough to measure against almost a year and a half of fucking. I mean, we spent those first several months practically completely naked, so logistically speaking, the sheer amount of dating sex we’ve had has to outweigh the quality of engaged sex solely because there’s so much of it.”

“Fine. You have a point,” she said begrudgingly. “I suppose we’ll just have to have an obscene amount of engaged sex in order to make an educated decision as to the quality of both.”

“Agreed,” he said, climbing back on top of her and kissing down her neck. “But at some point, we’ll go from engaged sex to married sex, so then we’ll just have to start all over.”

Arya’s laugh turned into a gasp as his hand drifted down between her thighs, and the familiar heat curled through her belly again. “Mm-hmm,” she agreed, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him close. “Maybe we should start a spreadsheet,” she breathed as his fingers started stroking her. “Assign points for creativity. Track the best positions.” Her eyes closed, and she tilted her head back, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth nipping against her skin. “Pros and cons of different locations.” His hand moved faster, and her voice faltered as she tried to catch her breath. “Benefits of- of toys.”

“Arya?”

“Yes, Gendry?” 

“Shut up, love.”

***

“You might be right,” he said when he was finally able to speak again. “Engaged sex  _ is  _ better than dating sex.”

Arya shifted her head to look at him through half lidded eyes. “Better than that time in your backseat in Robert’s driveway during the Christmas party?”

He smiled lazily at her, his eyes already drifting shut. “We should probably just do that again to make sure.”

***

She woke to the feel of him wrapped around her, his legs tangled with hers and his breath on her shoulder.  _ Her fiance. _ She smiled, a warmth spreading through her as she looked down at the ring on her hand. Gods, she loved him.

Gendry shifted, and she rolled over to kiss him.  “Good morning, future Mr. Arya Stark,” she said smiling.

“Good morning, future Mrs. Gendry Waters,” he said, nuzzling his nose against hers before pulling back to gaze at her questioningly. “Wait, do you want to change your name?”   
  
Arya stopped and thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Do you want me to?”

“Not my decision, is it?”

She felt a rush of affection for him. “No, but I’d still like to know what you think.”

Gendry rubbed his head, wrinkling his nose as he thought. “Well, it’d be nice for us to have the same name to show we’re a team, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a Waters. I could be a Stark, or we could be Waters-Stark or Stark-Waters. Or we could make up an entirely new name by smushing them together like...Starkers.”

Arya snorted. “Starkers?”

He attempted a shrug. “Fits our appearance right now,” he said, lifting the sheet in an exaggerated manner and staring pointedly down at their nakedness. He cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, presenting Mr. and Mrs. Gendry and Arya Starkers. In honor of their new name, they’ll be stripping for their first dance.” 

“Hey! It’d be almost like that weird ass, old bedding custom, but instead of other people taking our clothes off, we’d do it ourselves.”

Gendry scrunched up his face in distaste. “I can’t believe they used to do that. Always seemed so odd to me.” He shifted to rest a hand on her hip, fingers curling possessively into her. “I don’t like the idea of anyone seeing you like this except me.”

She sat up and let her gaze travel down his body appreciatively. “And you think I want to share this with anyone?”

He sat up and pulled her into his lap, resting his head against her forehead. “I’m yours. No one else’s.”

“And I’m yours,” she whispered, leaning in to capture his lips with hers.

***

“You know, Mr. Starkers,” she said, running her fingers through the soft hair on his chest, “We’re going to have to get out of this bed and put some clothes on eventually.”

“But it’s Saturday, love,” Gendry grumbled, tightening his arms around her, “and I’m not working this morning. Don’t have anywhere to be until my shift at The Brotherhood at 6:00.”

She smiled up at him, the disgruntled expression on his face filling her with fond amusement. “Alright,” she conceded. “No clothes, but I do need breakfast.”

“Fine, but I’m not making you bacon naked.”

***

She sat curled up on the couch, her phone in her hand and the latest episode of Bake Off playing quietly on the TV while Gendry worked on homework at the kitchen table. 

“Hot Pie should do this show,” she mused as a contestant broke down in tears when their gingerbread house collapsed. “His gingerbread Harrenhal was a work of art.” 

“What?” Gendry said distractedly. “Oh, yeah. How he managed to make gingerbread look like melted stone is completely beyond me.”

“And I swear, every week he tells me that he’s made whatever the technical challenge is before.” 

“Mm-hmm.”

“You know he’d get Star Baker like seven times.”

Gendry laughed, pushing his laptop aside and stretching before moving to hover over her from behind the couch. “Only seven?”

“I was actually being conservative in my estimation,” she said looking up at him. “How much more work do you have to get done today?”

He wrinkled his nose in distaste and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “I’ve got a few online discussions to post in, and I really need to finish the rough draft of that paper for Professor Mott.”

She immediately paused the TV, and swiveled around to face him. “I’m sorry for distracting you. Do you want me to get out of here for a while?”

Gendry climbed over the back of the couch and pulled her flush against him, his chest warm against hers. “You’re the best distraction that I could ever have,” he said, “but if you have anything you need to do, I wouldn’t put up a huge fight if you left for a bit.”

Arya slid her hands down his back into the waistband of his black boxer briefs and over the muscular curve of his ass, smiling at the way his breath hitched. She loved that even after almost a year and a half together, she could still have this effect on him. One of his hands moved to wrap around her thigh, hitching it up around his waist, while the other shifted around to cradle her head as he laid her back on the couch. As he drifted down to settle his head between her legs, she couldn’t help that little flicker of amazement that he still had that effect on her as well. 

***

“I’ll be back by 4:00,” she said, pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail. “Is that going to be enough time for you to get your work done?”

She felt him step up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. “Should be fine,” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. “What are you going to do?”

She picked her bag up off the table, double checking the contents. “Meera’s been texting me, so I’m going to meet her for lunch downtown,” she said. “After that, we’ll probably just wander about the shops for a while.” 

Gendry hummed, catching her left hand in his and holding it up, her ring twinkling in the light. “Are you wearing this out?” His voice sounded a bit higher than normal, anxious, and her heart sank, dismay spreading through her.

“I told you,” she said firmly, spinning in his arms to face him. “I’m done hiding.”

He leaned down to kiss her nose and sighed. “I’m not asking you to hide, Arya. I’m just saying we need to think about how we want to do this. What if someone gets a picture of your hand while you’re out with Meera today? They’ll tweet about it and then the next thing you know, your mum shows up here in a fury.” He pulled back to peer into her eyes. “I want to be smart about this, love.”

Arya sighed, her heart heavy as she considered his words. She knew he was right, but that didn’t make the idea of removing her ring any less palatable. “Alright,” she said sadly, her fingers reluctantly moving to grasp it, but Gendry’s hand shot out and stilled her movements.

“Hang on,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.” He strode off quickly to their bedroom, returning moments later with a chain dangling from his fist. Taking her hand, he gently removed her ring, leaning down to kiss her finger as he slid it off of her. He slipped the chain through the ring and then spun her around so he could place the necklace around her neck. “There,” he said, tucking it beneath her shirt. “Now you’ve got it with you, but no one knows it’s there except me and you. It’ll be our secret.”

A warmth spread through her, and she turned back to face him, smiling softly as he pulled her into his arms. “We can keep it hidden a bit longer, while we figure this out,” she conceded.

“You know I never wanted to hide this, not really,” he said, tightening his embrace around her. “It’s just-” He sighed.

“My mother.”

“Your mother.”

They both stood there quietly, contemplating just how severe a reaction Catelyn Stark was going to have to the revelation of their relationship.

“I wish my dad was here,” she said quietly, resting her head against his chest. “He liked you. He would have understood.”

Gendry moved his hands to rub soothing circles on her back. “I know, love.” After a moment, he tilted her chin up to look at him. “So how are we going to do this then?”

Arya smiled, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “As publicly as possible.” She turned to pick up the invitation from where it lay discarded on the table and held it out to him. “You’ll need a tux.”

Gendry tensed up for half a second, then his eyes gleamed, and he nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. Showing up to that event with a ring on your finger and me on your arm is making a statement that even your mother can’t deny.”

“So you’re okay with this then?” she asked skeptically, knowing how much he hated crowds. “There’ll be press and a red carpet and far too many gossipy socialites.”

He nodded, a determined look in his eyes. “I’m tired of hiding too, Arya. I want everyone to know what you mean to me, what I mean to you, and if I have to deal with a bunch of uptight pricks for a night to get that message out, then I’ll do it.” He paused, smirking at her. “Besides, this has the added benefit of getting to see the look on Aegon’s face when he realizes that he’s never getting a chance with you.”

She lifted up on her toes to capture his lips with hers. “Alright then. While I’m out, I’ll see about a tux for you.” Then she groaned. “I guess that means I need to get a gown. No doubt my mother already has something in mind, but there’s no way I’m letting her choose what I’m wearing for this.”

“You’ll look amazing, whatever you wear.”

“Oh,” she said suddenly, “we’ll need masks too, and I have an idea about that.”

Gendry wrinkled his nose. “What kind of stupid Halloween party only lets people wear masks and not costumes?”

“The fancy kind with boring conversations but lots of expensive booze, but if you want, we can ditch the party and go to Hot Pie’s instead.”

He shook his head. “No, but I won’t argue if you want to leave early.”

Arya grinned. “After we’ve caused a scandal, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

Arya’s phone buzzed, and she glanced down. “Meera’s waiting outside,” she said, pulling him down for a quick kiss. “You want me to bring back dinner?”

Gendry nodded. “Maybe from that Pentoshi place?” Smiling in assent, she turned to go, but then felt him yank her back to kiss her one more time. “I love you, you know,” he said. 

“I know, stupid. I love you too.”

***

Arya tossed her bags down on the bed and sighed in relief. The masquerade was less than a week away, and she had worried that she wouldn’t find a dress in time no matter how many stores she looked in. Her mother’s nagging had gotten almost unbearable, so Arya had cracked and done the unthinkable. She’d asked Sansa to take her shopping.

Shopping with Sansa should come with hazard pay, she decided, pulling off her boots to rub her swollen feet. But she had to admit, her sister had come through in a spectacular fashion. After visiting almost every boutique in town with no luck, her sister’s face had suddenly lit up in a fit of inspiration, and she dragged Arya off to a small studio that belonged to a designer friend of Margaery’s. 

Alyce Graceford had practically tripped over herself in excitement at the prospect of dressing Lady Arya Stark for an event with so much notoriety. She’d quickly taken Arya’s measurements and squealed when she realized that Arya was essentially the exact same size as one of her models, claiming that she had the perfect dress for the black and white ball.

Alyce had been right. The dress was perfect. An asymmetrical gown that looked as if someone had taken the halves of two different black dresses and sewn them together. The contrasting designs somehow worked perfectly together, and Arya was in love with it. It fit perfectly, and it seemed to be made for her, flattering her figure in a way that took her insecurities and turned them into something beautiful. 

Arya had taken the gown gratefully, promising to tell everyone that it was an Alyce Graceford original before being whisked away by Sansa to find shoes and jewelry. She’d only just managed to get by the tailor to pick up Gendry’s tux before they closed, and she was utterly exhausted. She might be in fantastic shape, but shopping with Sansa was a workout unlike any other.

Glancing at the clock, she saw she had an hour before Gendry got home from his shift at the bar and decided to do something about her aching body by running a hot bath and taking a long soak, complete with a drink and a good book. She had just narrowed her book choices down to a new mystery she’d been dying to read and the erotic novel that had unexpectedly shot up the bestseller list when her phone rang. 

She swore when she saw her mother’s name on the screen, not wanting to deal with Catelyn’s nagging just now, but she knew ignoring her would only make it worse. “Hey, mum,” she said distractedly, testing the temperature of the water with her hand. “What’s up?”

“Does something need to be up for me to call my daughter?”

Arya grabbed a jar of bath salts and poured a healthy amount under the running water. “Something usually is. You don’t generally call just to chat.” She heard her mother huff over the line, but there was no denial. “So what’s up?”

“I just wanted to check in with you about the masquerade. Do you need help with a dress?” She could hear the restraint in her tone. Her mother rarely approved of Arya’s fashion choices.

“No, mum. Sansa and I went shopping today.” 

Catelyn sighed with relief. “Well, if Sansa helped…” She trailed off, seeming to realize the implication of what she’d said, and Arya rolled her eyes. “Good, good,” she said. “And what about a date? Do you need me to find you someone? There’s a very nice young man at Robb’s office who-”

“No, mum,” she cut her off. “I’m good.” 

“You have a date?” her mother asked dubiously. 

“Yes, mother, I have a date. Is that so very hard to believe?”

Catelyn huffed. “No, it’s not. You’re a lovely young woman with so much potential. Any man would be lucky to have you on his arm.” She paused. “Who exactly will you be bringing?”

Arya had known this question was coming, but she didn’t exactly want to answer it just yet. Without thinking, she picked up a bottle of shampoo and chucked it at the door, eliciting a loud bang. “Oh, crap. I think something fell in the other room. Sounds like something broke. I’ll talk to you later, bye!” And she hung up before her mother could protest. 

Glaring down at her phone, Arya sighed heavily. She wanted to tell her mother that Gendry was her date, that Gendry was going to be her date for every event from now until the end of time, and that if she had a problem with it, then Arya didn’t have to attend any of them. She wanted to post some obnoxiously sappy “I said yes” picture to her social media and watch the gossip implode. She wanted to drag him out to the middle of town and snog him senseless without caring who saw them. But she couldn’t. Not yet. 

She sank into the tub, immersing herself completely and concentrating on letting the steaming water wash away her frustration. It wasn’t until her lungs were screaming for air that she emerged, gasping for breath but somehow slightly less annoyed with her mother. Reaching for a towel to dry her hands before choosing a book on her eReader app, she noticed the text alert flashing on her screen. 

Mum: You’re not bringing your roommate, are you?

Arya stared, fuming at the question, annoyance returning full force. She couldn’t even bother calling him by name. She snatched up her phone and was just about to fire off a scathing text when she realized something. 

Arya: No.

She watched the three little dots on the screen, waiting for her response.

Mum: Alright then, sweetheart. I’ll see you on Friday night!

Technically, Gendry was not her roommate, he was her fiance. So technically, she was telling her mother the truth. Of course, it was highly unlikely that Catelyn would see it that way, but Arya wasn’t particularly worried about that at the moment. Sighing, she closed her messages and opened up the book she’d chosen, getting lost in the erotic fantasy of the medieval princess and her blacksmith knight. 

Arya’s skin had pruned, and the water had almost completely lost its heat by the time she heard Gendry calling her from the living room.    


“Back here,” she yelled, tapping out of her ebook at a particularly good part that had her imagining herself and Gendry reenacting that scene in copious detail. Idly, she wondered if he still had those leather bracers from last Halloween and whether she could talk him into a bit of role play.

“Hey,” he said, entering the bathroom and gazing down at her, eyes dark and a lustful smile on his face. “You look good.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m naked, Gendry.”

“Like I said, you look good.” He knelt beside her and plucked her phone out of her hand, dropping it on the counter behind him. “Reading in the tub again?” 

She nodded, inhaling sharply when he dipped his hand beneath the water to cup her breast, thumb brushing against a hardened nipple. She sat up and pulled his face to hers, kissing him deeply before standing and reaching for a towel. 

Gendry huffed indignantly. “I wanted to join you,” he said. 

Arya climbed out and wrapped the towel around her frame. “Water’s cold,” she explained. “Besides, as we’ve already determined, our tub isn’t big enough for both of us.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying.” He smirked and pulled her against him, his hands wandering down to tug at the towel. “I see you survived Sansa,” he said. “Did you get what you need?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his chest. “Got your tux too. So we’re all set now.” She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, his unique scent, his hands tracing up and down her back, and the lingering arousal from her novel all had her on edge, ready for him to carry her back to the bedroom and throw her down on their mattress. 

Pulling away from him, she dropped her towel to the ground and smirked. “Want to see what I’m wearing to the masquerade?” she asked raising an eyebrow.

Gendry’s eyes traveled hungrily over her bare skin. “If you go to your mother’s party like that, I’m going to end up taking you right on the table in front of everyone.”

Arya laughed. “Now that would definitely send a message.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to their bedroom. “Fuck me first, then I’ll show you my gown. Which you are definitely fucking me in at my mum’s party. Though probably not on the table.”

***

“Are you ready?” Arya reached out for Gendry’s hand as the taxi pulled up in front of the castle her mother had rented for this year’s ball. He turned to look at her and nodded, his face set in determination. 

She leaned over to kiss him quickly and grinned. “Put your mask on then. Gotta let everyone know who you belong to.”

Gendry smirked, raising the silver wolf’s head and tying it on as Arya slipped the white doe’s head over her face. She knew that the significance of their masks would not be lost on anyone. It was well known that Gendry was Robert Baratheon’s son, and it infuriated her that certain people looked down on him just because he’d been born on the wrong side of the sheets. By wearing the symbol of House Baratheon, she was not only publicly acknowledging his paternity, she was clearly showing her support, and with him sporting the Stark symbol, it was an open declaration of attachment between them. 

They stared at each other for a moment, then Gendry opened his door and climbed out, holding out a hand to assist her as she exited the vehicle. Glancing around, she took in the crowded entryway, flanked by a small group of photographers, who thankfully hadn’t seemed to notice her yet. Taking a deep breath, she strode off toward the entrance, her hand clasped firmly in his and ignoring the cries of “Ayra! Lady Arya!” that suddenly burst from the press. 

Just inside the door, she could see her mother, clad in a sparkling black grown and a delicate lace mask and looking absolutely beautiful, speaking to a woman holding a microphone, and her stomach suddenly swooped, nerves exploding into a thousand fluttering butterflies. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed Gendry’s hand and led him over to stand a few feet away as Catelyn finished with the reporter. As she bid the woman goodbye, Arya saw her mother’s eyes flicker over to where she and Gendry stood, hand in hand. 

To her mother’s credit, no one would have ever been able to tell she was anything but pleased to see her younger daughter. The slight twitch in her left eyelid, however, told Arya that Catelyn had immediately realized what their masks meant and that she was far from happy about it.

“Arya, dear.” Her mother reached out to pull her into an awkward hug, forcing her to drop Gendry’s hand. “You look lovely,” she said, flicking her eyes briefly to Gendry. “Did your date cancel on you? I was under the impression that you weren’t bringing Gendry.”

“I never said that.”

Catelyn drew herself up, frowning slightly. “I have a distinct recollection-”

“I said I wasn’t bringing my roommate, mother. Gendry isn’t my roommate.”

Her mother’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth but Arya cut her off.

“He’s my fiance,” she said clearly, holding up her left hand and projecting her voice loud enough so that the reporter who was still lingering nearby heard what she said.

The quiet gasp that escaped her mother’s lips was lost in a sudden squeal that sounded from behind her. Whipping around, she saw Sansa beaming at her.

“Fiance?” she squealed again, reaching out to grab Arya’s hand to examine the ring. “Oh! It’s so pretty! I’ve never seen anything like it.” Her sister enveloped Arya in a tight hug before turning to Gendry and embracing him as well. “Congratulations, you two! Oh, hang on, I gotta get a picture.” She dug out her phone and held it up. “Take off your masks first, so we can see your faces. Arya, hold up your ring. Gendry, you kiss her on the cheek. Ready?”

They dutifully obeyed, Arya flashing an open mouthed smile and pointing to her ring, her amusement mounting with every passing second. 

Sansa tapped away quickly on her phone before tucking it back inside her beaded bag. “There,” she said in a satisfied tone. “You’ll be trending in no time. I even gave you a hashtag.” Then she turned to their mother and smiled widely, and Arya could see the glint of mischievous delight in her sister’s eyes. “Isn’t this wonderful, mum?”

Lady Catelyn Stark was nothing if not impeccably correct, so Arya was not surprised when her mother smiled and hugged her, offering congratulations that almost sounded sincere. The too firm grip on her hand, however, let her know how furious Catelyn actually was, that she was going to hear it later, but Arya couldn’t actually bring herself to care at the moment. 

It was done. Sansa had tweeted it or snapped it or something which meant that basically all of Westeros knew. They no longer had to hide, and she felt like she could fly. 

“Excuse me, Lady Arya?” She turned to see the reporter smiling at her hopefully. “Cassandra Rivers, KLY News. Could I have a moment of your time?” 

She nodded and glanced back at Sansa who pulled her into another hug, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Holy shit, what a move,” she breathed. “You’re telling me everything later, okay?” 

Arya turned back to face Cassandra Rivers and her camera, her “Lady Arya Stark” smile firmly in place as she wrapped her arm around Gendry’s waist.

***

Her eyes were closed, her head resting against Gendry’s broad chest as they swayed together on the dance floor, one of the first quiet moments they’d had all night. Sansa’s post had done its job, and they had been fielding congratulations in varying levels of sincerity since the instant they stepped through the doors. 

Jon had clapped Gendry on the back and threatened to kill him before shaking his hand and pulling him into a hug. Bran had smiled knowingly, commenting that it was about time. Jeyne Poole had looked somewhat bewildered that Sansa had managed to keep it a secret for so long, and to Gendry’s delight, Aegon Targaryen was seen sulking in a corner before getting over it rather quickly and moving on to a statuesque brunette from Dorne. 

Overall, Arya considered the evening a success. Their relationship was public, and true to Sansa’s word, they actually were trending. Her hashtag #gendrya had people tagging her so often, she had to shut her phone off because of the constant vibrations. 

“I love you, Arya Stark,” Gendry said quietly, and she pulled back to gaze up at him, smiling at the sight of the wolf mask perched on top of his head. “I’m sorry that I ever felt the need to hide that fact from anyone.” 

She moved her arms to wrap them around his neck and kissed him. “You’re forgiven,” she said smiling. “But it’s out there now, so you’re stuck with me. I mean, we’ve got a couple name and everything.”

He chuckled. “I know. My phone’s been going nuts with texts.” He reached into his pocket and pulled it out to show her the string of messages from their friends. “They’re all at the Brotherhood tonight,” he said. “Wanna sneak out and join them?”

Arya nodded and kissed him again, before lifting up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “You’re gonna fuck me in the coat closet first, though.” 

He grinned at her, a wicked look on his face. “I am?”

She reached up and pulled the mask back down over his face. “Oh,” she said huskily. “You definitely are.”


End file.
